


Here Again, Like Always

by Dandy



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Fights, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:01:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27821932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dandy/pseuds/Dandy
Summary: Akira does something stupid, again.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 6
Kudos: 95





	Here Again, Like Always

**Author's Note:**

> I asked my friends for short fic prompts and got:
> 
> Akeshu, "If something were to happen to you... I don't think I could take it."

That idiot had done it again. Of course he had. Akechi doesn’t know why he’s surprised.

He’s awake now, but he hadn’t been, when Akechi had burst into the little clinic in Yongen-jaya, hand gripped around his phone open to a simple text message ( _He’s here. -T_ ). Akechi’s vision had gone red when he’d seen him lying there, bandages wrapped around his exposed chest and arms, a bruise blooming across his cheek.

“I had to patch him up, but he’ll be fine,” Takemi had said, just before he’d turned on his heel to leave.

“Who did this?” Akechi had spat between ground teeth. He’d find them, and he’d kill them.

But Takemi had shrugged. “Don’t know. He just said someone needed help, that’s all.”

Of course. The idiot had done it again.

He’d been asleep then, but he’s awake now, trudging about two yards behind Akechi, gripping his injured arm. He hasn’t spoken since they left the clinic, and Akechi hasn’t either, nor has he bothered to slow his pace.

_Let him suffer for his mistakes._

He doesn’t say anything until they’re in the quiet, dirty alley that leads to the steps to their ratty, cheap apartment, the one where Akira had twirled around in the living room and smiled at Akechi and said, “It’s all ours,” with pride, like it was a palace with no chipped paint or leaky faucets or old cigarette smell. There’s no pride in his voice now, as he says, “She was in trouble. She needed help.”

Akechi doesn’t so much as look back. “I don’t give a shit.”

“If I hadn’t stepped in-”

“You’d still be in one piece.”

“It’s not serious.”

Akechi doesn’t register the time between turning around and slamming Akira against the rain slick wall of the alley, throwing his entire weight against him to pin him in place. His hand rises to encircle Akira’s throat, but he doesn’t grip.

But god.

Sometimes he wants to.

Akira is… infuriatingly calm, given their positions. His gaze is steady and a little sad where it meets Akechi’s from behind his glasses, and just because he knows it will make him vulnerable, Akechi reaches up and rips them from his face.

For the first time since he started moving, Akira flinches, and Akechi feels sick satisfaction rise in his stomach.

“If you keep talking like that,” he growls, “I’ll _make_ it serious.”

Akira still looks sad, but not afraid. He’s never feared Akechi, even when Akechi used to try to make him afraid, back when this all started. That feels like an eternity ago. It feels like yesterday. Everything has changed, and yet here they are, back in the same old argument.

So he knows that even though Akechi’s hand itches, his grip won’t tighten, and Akechi is as annoyed as he is grateful.

He says, “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Akechi scoffs, and leans in closer, pressing hard into his chest. “You’ve _infuriated_ me.”

“I’m sorry for that, too.”

“You are not and you’ll never be, because you keep _doing_ it!” Akechi’s voice rises, not a shout, but not far off. “There’s always going to be someone who needs help, and for _some_ reason, you think it has to be _you_!”

“If I can help, I will.”

“Then you aren’t _really_ sorry. You’ll keep doing this, with no regard for anything!” Akechi grabs his wrist, slams his hand roughly against the wall, where the dim light from a window above glints off his ring. “Was your promise a lie?”

Akira’s eyes widen. “ _No_.” His voice is full of fight, for the first time, and Akechi’s eyes sting.

“Then stop doing this stupid… heroic bullshit! Or don’t lie to me! Because-”

Akechi’s hand falls from Akira’s throat, and he suddenly slumps, boneless, against him. He’s breathing hard. Lost his composure.

He sucks in a sharp breath.

“If something happened to you… I couldn’t take it.”

And he means it, more than he’s meant anything in his life, and he can hear Akira’s heart quicken, and when he looks up, for the first time Akira is scared.

He wraps his arms around Akechi. “I’ll never leave you. I promised.”

Akechi lets his eyes drift closed, his breath slowing. “Then for once in your miserable life, show some sense of self-preservation.”

Akira laughs, once, with no humor, and tightens his hold. “I’ll do my best.”

It’s weak, but it’s something.

It’s Akira who pulls them from the wall, Akira who retrieves his glasses from the ground where he dropped them in the midst of their argument, Akira who leads him by the hand to their home, to their bed.

It’s Akira who holds him that night, like nights previous, like hopefully all the nights to come, as Akechi listens to his still-beating heart, and sleeps.


End file.
